The Last Will and Testament of Hobbie Klivian
by LaneWinree51
Summary: Hobbie Klivian has mere hours left to live. It's time to write out his Last Will before shoving off the mortal coil.


**Title:** The Last Will and Testament of Derek "Hobbie" Klivian  
**Genre:** Humor  
**Rating:** PG  
**Characters:** Hobbie Klivian, Syal Antilles  
**Summary:** Hobbie Klivian was going to be die within the next hour. Time to make out his Last Will and Testament. 

~*~

Hobbie Klivian heaved a heavy sigh as he stared at the portable terminal that sat upon his desk. He knew that it would be better to begin this sooner rather than later but it was such an unpleasant task. Granted there were things he enjoyed doing less such as peeling tubers. That alone was enough reason to be happy that he had retired from the military. The kitchen is short staffed? Go peel tubers, Hobbie. Duty roster five minutes late? Peel more tubers, Flight Officer. Caught in the middle of one of Janson's stunts again? That'll be another five-hundred tubers, Klivian.

He could safely put peeling tubers ahead of this as far as unpleasant tasks stood, but there weren't many things out there that were worse than this _and_ peeling those infernal vegetables. Well, there was also taking apart hyperspace motivators. That wasn't very fun. Of course he wasn't all that fond of cataloging spare Incom components in the squadron storage facility either. Astrogation duty was up there as well as…

_Focus, Klivian._

Frowning, Hobbie began to input text into the terminal.

_**The Last Will and Testament of Derek Klivian**___

_I, Derek Klivian, of 1388 Allegiance Avenue, Coruscant City, Coruscant, being of sound mind and at least mostly functioning body declare that this is my Last Will and Testament._

He paused for a moment before adding a quick note.

_And I mean it this time._

Moving through the preliminary declarations was easy enough. He made note to revoke all prior wills and codicils (his datapad informed him that he had issued three hundred and twenty-seven prior wills). After several minutes he finished the first article, making it quite clear that he had no spouse and no living children to siphon off his pension after he was gone. Idly he was thankful that he didn't have any immediate family. If he was going to shuffle off the mortal coil within the next few hours he didn't want to burden them with that knowledge.

_**Article 2**__**  
**__**Specific Bequests and Devises**___

_I hereby bequeath my collection of Avedon Tiggs action holovids to Major Inyri Forge, who has always lusted after the man despite the fact that he really isn't all that handsome and frankly I can't figure out why every date I bring over seems to be infatuated with him.___

_I give my shiny, expensive, sporty landspeeder to Tycho Celchu because that used TX-938 he drives everywhere is utterly embarrassing to be seen in. Tycho, old friend, all those times I turned you down when you offered to pick me up for sabacc night wasn't because I preferred to walk like I said. I didn't want to be caught dead in that speeder. Please treat Wynssa (it's perfectly normal for a man to name his airspeeder) well. Store her inside, wax her once a standard month, and for the love of the Force remember it's premium tibanna gas, not regular.___

_And speaking of Wynssa, I give my signed collection of Wynssa Starflare flimsiplast posters to one of my first Commanding Officers, Jedi Master Luke Skywalker. Not because you like her (though frankly if you don't find her at least a little attractive I have to wonder about you) but rather the thought of the Jedi Grand Master with those posters hanging in his quarters fills me with glee. So please, do a dead man a favor and just put them up on the walls for a little while. A standard week will suffice.___

_To Wedge Antilles, my superior officer and "friend" (always in that order), I bequeath my collection of vintage Lomin Ale. Now, Wedge, I should probably be upfront. Remember about seven years ago when you gave me three hundred credits so I could order a crate full of Lomin from old Booster? Remember how I said that your crate had been damaged en route and I couldn't get your money back? Well about that. You see I kind of kept both crates. Do I feel bad about that? Yeah, a little, but you have to understand, this is__**really**__good ale. Besides, it's your fault I'm going to be dead in an hour so to be honest I don't feel bad at all. In any case, your Lomin's in the cellar. Have Mirax swing by and pick it up for you sometime.___

_And finally, to Wes Janson, I give you my bachelor pad. I know you pine after it. You only stare longingly at it and complain that I beat you to signing the sale documents by twenty seconds every single time you're here. Now please take it and shut up. It's yours. Frankly I don't even like it that much. The neighbors upstairs are noisy and always leave their trash outside their door instead of hauling it to the compactor like any good tenant would. They're your problem now. Also the plumbing is leaky and the hot water doesn't kick in until 0800 standard hours. Hope you like cold showers._

That should take care of his belongings. They could fight over whatever was left. Not that they would. Hobbie doubted that anyone would take much of an interest in his collection of fruit fizz caps. Their loss. He detailed some rough notes as how to handle whatever leftover possessions he might have remaining.

_**Article 4**__**  
**__**Executor and Administrative Powers**___

_I nominate Wedge Antilles, former commanding officer and "friend" to serve as Executor of my Estate. Remember how I said it's your fault I'm dead? Yeah, well, you get to clean up after me. Ha, ha. I get the last laugh this time. Have fun dealing with my scum-sucking third cousin (twice removed) Enric who's going to want everything I have so he can pawn it off and avoid getting a job for another six months._

That should take care of the larger parts of the document. After checking over his spelling (he could never remember if Tibanna had two B's or two N's) he saved the document and submitted it to his lawyer. In another twenty minutes or so he expected to get a message back from Nawara confirming that his latest Last Will and Testament had been archived. Perhaps he should amend his will to leave something to the Twi'lek attorney.

Hobbie looked up as the door to his office slid open. In bounded a young woman that had a grin from ear-to-ear plastered on her face.

"Ready to go Uncle Hobbie?" Syal Antilles, daughter of Wedge, asked.

Forcing a smile, Hobbie stood and grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair, "Sure thing, kiddo."

"Really I can't thank you enough," Syal said as she made her way towards the front door. "Ever since the first accident Daddy hasn't gotten into a landspeeder with me. How am I ever going to learn to drive one unless someone teaches me? I'll have to thank him for asking you on my behalf."

"Well you've got to start somewhere," Hobbie said as the color began to drain away from his face. "How exactly did you get into that accident, anyways?"

"Oh, I forgot which pedal was the accelerator and which one was the airbrake."

Hobbie looked at Syal for a moment before turning around and walking back into his office.

"Where are you going?" Syal asked.

"I forgot to give Face my time share on Mon Calamari."


End file.
